


The Bucky Barnes Protection Squad

by cosmicocean



Series: Cousin Sergeiverse [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, bucky is a little confused but grateful, the avengers are very protective of bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3954334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicocean/pseuds/cosmicocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes reveals his identity to the world. Some people aren't happy with it. The Avengers are extremely unhappy with those people.</p><p>Part of the Cousin Sergeiverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tony

Tony isn’t really surprised that Barnes wants to announce who he is after he officially joins the Avengers. He keeps saying ominous shit like “the people should know who’s really defending them” and he knows this whole thing ties into his guilty conscience crap.          

But he organizes a press conference anyway. As much as he doesn’t want to feed into Barnes’s self-deprecating delusions of guilt and despair, Barnes is a grown ass man who can make his own grown ass decisions.

Press conferences are a weird and hairy beast. Sometimes they’re the worst things that have ever happened including when he was dying. They definitely were all the time before the Avengers. Now that there’s more people there, sometimes it’s more fun. Like when reporters ask stupid questions and they all just riff off it. Or when they ask _really_ stupid questions, like the time a reporter dared to ask Clint what Natasha was like in the sack and she reduced said reporter to tears. That was great.

This one, he senses, is not going to be one of those times.

And, like in most cases, he’s right.

The reporters are asking all kinds of questions about Barnes’s kill record. Barnes is hunched over his microphone, staring straight down at the table. Wilson has a tight hand on Barnes’s shoulder which Tony’s confident is to keep Barnes from running away. Steve looks like he’s about to kill anybody who gets close to him. Natasha and Clint are lounging casually but with their murder faces on. Bruce looks like he might be trying to meditate through this and Tony’s pretty sure Thor is seconds away from summoning lightning to smite everybody.

They’re all under very specific orders from Steve. _It’s going to be rough, sit tight, hang in there, answer the questions politely, don’t cause an incident, let’s just get through this_. And while Tony is extremely confident that one of them is going to snap and just start cutting a path through the reporters to the door, Cap’s in charge and he’ll admit (grudgingly) that he usually knows best, so Tony’s willing to ride it out and trust that it’ll all go smoothly.

Then one of the reporters questions Barnes’s loyalty and Tony thinks _yeah, no, fuck that._

“You’re all assholes,” he comments, and just like that they’re all focused on him. He sees Steve’s head drop into his hands out of the corner of his eye. “I mean it. Real, unbelievable dickweeds. Honestly, I’m kind of impressed. I’ve met a _lot_ of schmucks in my time, but you guys are something else.”

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Barnes-“

“Sergeant Barnes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sergeant Barnes. Of the 107th.” Tony will not admit to a god damn soul how obsessed he used to be with the Howling Commandoes but he thinks he can pass this one off as common history knowledge. “Address him by his rank.”

Out of the _other_ corner of his eye, he sees Natasha slowly straighten and lean over to pay attention to him. Good. One of them is smart enough to know what’s coming.

“ _Sergeant_ Barnes worked for the Russians for over half a century. How can we be sure that his loyalties truly lie with America?”

“I want you to imagine something for me.” Tony knows what he’s talking about. He carefully read over the schematics for the technology used on Barnes. He’s never been more grateful for doing his homework ever. “Imagine you give your life for this country, and then when you think maybe you can get some god damn peace after fighting in a fucking war for a year, a psychotic HYDRA mad scientist drags you- _armless_ , mind you, which probably hurts like a bitch- to his own little Frankenstein’s laboratory and _starts fucking with your brain_. And it _hurts_ , let me tell you. You know how they do it? Cause I do. They drag gigantic magnets to your head and fire them full of electricity, and they wipe your brain activity. And they do it again and again and again, until all your memories get either wiped for good, or stored in a tiny corner of your brain. _Agonizing_ process, by the way. Most painful thing you’d ever have happen to you in your life.”

Everyone is sitting straight up now, staring at him.

“Sergeant Barnes is not a menace to society, or a double agent. He was a god damn prisoner of war. Everything he did, he was forced to do by his captors. I really don’t think we can give a war hero POW a full plate of shit for that, can we?”

Barnes is slowly straightening from his hunched position, staring at him like he’s never seen him before.

“Mr. Stark,” another reporter starts. “Regardless of Sergeant Barnes’s supposed status as a prisoner of war-“

In the breath the reporter takes before he continues his question, Tony knows several things.

1: This guy is the assholiest asshole here

2: Tony’s gonna have to bring up some shit to shut him down

3: Tony is going to destroy this man’s career

“The fact remains that the man has killed hundreds, if not thousands of people. How are we supposed to-“

“I’ve killed millions.”

One could hear a pin drop, he notes with some satisfaction.

“Mr. Stark-“

“I have. I have built weapons that have killed millions of people. Their blood is on my hands and I can never _ever_ wash it off.” Tony leans back in his chair and props his feet up on the table. “I’m working through all the guilt that comes with that, you know, seeing a shrink, talking it out, whatever. Point is, I knowingly created weapons that killed millions of people. All my own decision, all my own choice. But you don’t give me shit. It’s all ‘ooh, save me, Iron Man! You’re so hot, Iron Man!’”

“I feel like you might be exaggerating that part,” Bruce murmurs, a soft smile on his face. Rogers is watching Tony with that genuine sunshiny happiness that kind of makes Tony want to throw up, be a better person, or punch him on a regular basis.

“Fuck you, Banner, ladies love me. Point is, you don’t give a fuck about my allegiances or kill count. So why do you care about Barnes’s?”

“Mr. Stark-“

Tony is suddenly, abruptly tired. “It doesn’t make a difference to us,” he says wearily. “And it shouldn’t to you.” He kicks off the table and into a standing position and picks up his mic. “Come on guys, I feel like tacos.” He drops the microphone on the table. “Avengers out, bitches.”

Tony strides out of the conference room, ignoring the flashes of cameras and shouted questions, and into the side room that they prepared for the conference in. Maria is standing there, arms folded, looking unimpressed.

“Nicely done,” she says dryly. “That shouldn’t have the press on our backs.”

“I can honestly say that I don’t give even half a fuck.”

“Somehow I am not surprised.”

The other Avengers burst into the room. Steve and Bucky sidle in quietly a moment later.

“That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Wilson informs Tony. “And I once saw Clint smack face first into a wall after yelling ‘parkour’ so I know what I’m talking about.”

“Hey, fuck you, Wilson.”

“Tony-“ Steve starts, eyes shining.

“Save it, Spangles. I just didn’t want to stay in the press conference for any longer than I had to and that seemed like a good way to end it.”

Steve’s still grinning like he’s heard good news for the first time. Tony wonders what it says about him as a person that every time Captain America looks at him like he hung the god damn son he wants to sock him. “Thank you, Tony.”

“Cram it, Rogers.” Tony whips out his sunglasses and adjusts them on his face. “You’re buying all of us tacos.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Good, I wasn’t asking.”

The Avengers all meander out of the room except for Barnes, who is watching him with an unreadable expression that Tony can only describe as “emotional”. Why do supersoldiers keep staring at him with feelings they’re old men shouldn’t they treat feelings like something to shy away from oh _Christ_ what if Barnes starts to cry Tony is not equipped to deal with crying sort-of-Russian-but-not-really super assassins he wants that in all his interviews from now on he wants it tattooed on his god damn _forehead_ -

“We need to work on your people skills,” Barnes says. Tony blinks.

“ _My_ people skills?”

“Yeah. Sorely lacking, as far as I can tell.”

Tony scowls at him to hide his relief. “Listen, asshole, I was doing press junkets when you were still locked in a crate in Russia. I know what I’m doing.”

“Sure you do.”

“Hey, you know what, fuck you; you can buy me a taco too.”


	2. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the longest chapter out of all of them.

Steve keeps trying to come up with ways to thank Tony for what he said at the press conference, but Natasha has advised against it.

“You know how Stark is about feelings,” Natasha says when she’s flicking grapes at his forehead one afternoon because she’s bored. “He’d rather have sharks gnaw his legs off than acknowledge he has them.”

“I feel bad not doing anything.”

“He knows you’re grateful and would rather we all forget anything happened.”

“Hmph.” He starts catching the grapes Natasha throws at him in his mouth. They do this for a few moments before something occurs to him.

“That was an oddly specific scenario.”

Natasha shrugs. “What happens in the Bahamas,” she answers simply. He decides it isn’t really in anybody’s best interest to pursue that.

So he doesn’t thank Tony. He tries to give him less crap over the next few days, but the way Tony is, it’s impossible _not_ to give him crap, so he gives up on that one.

One of the things he gives Tony crap for is the creation of a Twitter account in his name. Steve doesn’t really need a Twitter. He doesn’t understand it. But after hearing “it’s the 21st Century, Rogers, everyone has social media, I don’t know if you can handle sending out messages that aren’t a sonnet, but baby steps” repeatedly he’s grown to accept having it, and after both Tony _and_ Clint’s threats of tweeting under his name (“we know your password, dude, you should change it from what the guy who created it set it as”) he’s slowly adapted to it.

It’s kind of neat, in its way. Sure, there are quite frankly a concerning amount of people offering to sleep with him. But there are also shy young adults telling him that he’s their hero, that he’s inspired them. There are teenagers confessing that they don’t know why they’re alive, and asking for a reason. It’s like a direct line of communication to the world, to thank and reassure them.

(His favorites are the funny ones, though. He likes the ones from teenagers that ask silly questions like “MY GREAT GRANDMA MET YOU WHEN SHE WAS A LITTLE GIRL SHE SAYS YOU SMELL LIKE APPLE PIE AND FREEDOM CAN YOU CONFIRM ASAP THANKS” He tries to answer all of those)

Steve checks Twitter every night before he goes to bed. It’s calming usually. He’ll flip through his StarkPhone and answer all the ones he can before he gets tired. This particular night, however, he can’t sleep, even though he is tired beyond calculating. Fuzzily, he sees a tweet directed at him.

@CaptainPopsicle barnes deserves to burn for all the shit he’s pulled he’s not a hero he’s a menace that should be put down

Steve stares hazily at the tweet. It’s not the first tweet he’s received about Bucky, but he’s tired of seeing them, and he’s just. He’s all set. He types out a reply, sends it, chucks his phone somewhere in his nightstand drawer, and curls into his bed to fall asleep.

When he staggers out around noon the Avengers are gathered around one of Tony’s computers. Everyone looks up at his entry and stares at him.

“What?” he asks, absently patting down his hair in case of dreadful bedhead.

“Heyyyyyyyyyyyy Cap,” Tony says, grinning. Come to think of it, both he and Clint look like its Christmas and their birthdays all rolled into one. “Someone was up to some late night shenanigans, were they?”

Steve frowns. He’s just woken up. He is not prepared for this. He turns to Sam, his general Sane Person. “Is there juice in the fridge?”

“Go for it.” Sam’s grinning too, but not as maniacally as Clint and Tony, which. Yeah. Steve will take.

He goes into the kitchen and pulls out his carton of orange juice. At this point, everyone has individual cartons of beverages, simply because there’s less bloodshed battling for the last of something. His has a piece of tape with “STEVE” written on it. He walks with it out to the main room where everyone is continuing to stare at him except for Tony and Clint, who are on their phones in a corner cackling.

“Can we get waffles?” Steve has given up understanding the insanity happening around him until he has food in his stomach.

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to go anywhere without a mob of paparazzi for a while,” Natasha says, that odd expression on her face that she gets when she finds something hilarious but refuses to break on the grounds that “someone has to be the responsible one when Pepper’s not around”.

“What else is new?”

“She’s not kidding, dude,” Sam tells him. “It’s gonna be worse than usual for a bit.”

Clint cackles louder and Steve looks from him to Bucky, whose mouth is twisted in a smirk, to Thor, who looks more amused by Clint than anything.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “I’ll bite. What did I do?”

“You check Twitter before you go to sleep, Steve?” Sam asks casually.

“Every night.”

“You, uh, remember your last tweet?”

Steve screws up his face, and then remembers.

Aw, hell.

“I do now,” he says, even slower than before.

Tony laughs, loud and sharp. “You’re trending,” he tells him gleefully. “You’re trending _in six different ways._ ”

It’s entirely possible that tweeting _“@AmericaDefender Sir, go fuck yourself please”_ is not the wisest move Steve’s ever made. But it’s also not even remotely close to the things he’s regretted the most in his life, so he guesses it evens out.

“I’ve sent an email to Pepper,” Tony says. “I want the copyright on ‘sir, go fuck yourself please’. Tee shirts, ball caps, billboards, sex toys, I’m printing it on whatever I can get my hands on.”

Steve _does_ , however, at this moment, allowing Tony Stark into his life. That might not have been that choice. Allowing Nick Fury to allow Tony Stark into his life. That’s better.

“Don’t worry,” Bruce says calmly. He’s not laughing at Steve’s misfortune. Steve knew he liked him best. “Pepper’s sensible and she likes you. Tony’s not printing it on anything.”

Steve is fervently grateful for the allegiance of Pepper Potts he has somehow won.

“Then I’m making my own. JARVIS, buy me a Bedazzler.”

“Ms. Potts has forbidden me from purchasing any more Bedazzlers since the incident with Colonel Rhodes’s military uniform, sir.”

“I’m surrounded by losers.”

“Says the man trying to buy a Bedazzler.”

“Wow. Betrayal from the Science Bro. I want the friendship bracelet back.”

Steve looks at Bucky, eyebrows raised. Bucky’s smirk turns into a grin and he kind of shrugs.

“I’m just entertained that your reputation’s been ruined, Rogers.”

“Hey, there’s a drawing of you in a ‘sir, go fuck yourself please’ shirt already, Barnes.” Clint sounds impressed. “That was fast.”

Bucky peers over Clint’s shoulder. “Huh,” he says thoughtfully. “Fuck me.”

“Been there, done that, got the tee shirt,” Natasha replies boredly, already having lost interest in the drama unfolding and flicking through her own phone.

Steve chokes on his orange juice. Tony drops his phone. Thor raises his eyebrows. Bruce suppresses a smile. Sam makes an odd snorting noise. Clint is unaffected. Bucky glares at her like she insulted his grandmother.

(It was never wise to insult Gramma Barnes in front of Bucky. Steve’s seriously concerned for Natasha’s safety)

She glances up at everyone’s stares. “Was that a secret?” she asks innocently.

“I hate you,” Bucky informs her. “I wish I’d killed you during Project Insight.”

“No, you don’t. You’d be much more bored.”

“Since _when?_ ” Stark yells as loudly as possible.

“Lady Natasha, have you recently taken up with more than one paramour?” Thor asks carefully. Thor only calls Natasha “lady” when he is being extremely kind or extremely careful.

“Since before you were born,” Natasha answers. “And no, Thor, this was a long time ago. It’s just Clint right now.”

“I hope,” Clint adds. “Don’t think I don’t know about the way the pizza guy stares at you.”

“The pizza guy stares at Natalia because he’s seen that video on YouTube of her garroting a man with her necklace,” Bucky says, still glaring at Natasha.

“ _What do you mean before I was born?_ ” If Steve had the ears of a man without the superserum coursing through his veins, he’s pretty sure Tony’s shout would have destroyed his ears. Everyone but Bucky and Natasha wince.

“I’ve been around a very long time,” Natasha answers, kicking her feet up on the table.

“Zola said you were born in the 80s.”

“Zola said a lot of things.” She swivels to face Steve and grins. “I’m almost as old as you, Steve.”

Steve doesn’t have enough caffeine to process this. He looks pleadingly at Bruce, who seems to be squarely in the column of “didn’t know, but rolling with it”, which is where Bruce usually settles.

“I’ll make everyone some coffee,” Bruce says placidly. “I think we’re all going to need it. Steve, want to help?”

“Jesus, yes,” Steve says desperately, and he and Bruce head into the kitchen.

When they come back, Tony is shouting _“what, was it like couples assassinations? Were you Mr. and Mrs. Fucking Smith?”_

Natasha rolls her eyes. “If anyone is Mr. and Mrs. Smith around here, it is _clearly_ Clint and I.”

“God damn right.” Clint crosses the room just to fistbump Natasha.

“I don’t understand that reference,” Bucky mutters. Steve walks up to him and presses his mug of coffee into his hand. He looks like he needs it more than Steve does.

“Thanks,” Bucky mumbles.

“You looked like you needed it.”

“No, I mean. For defending my honor on the Internet.”

Steve shrugs. “I got your back.”

Bucky bumps his shoulder into Steve’s and together they watch Tony yell at an unconcerned Natasha for daring to keep information from him when she _knows_ he hoards information like an obsessive-compulsive squirrel.

(Those may not be his exact words)


	3. Thor

Thor is often, much like his companions, followed about by members of the press inquiring as to issues occurring in Midgard. Jane has instructed him to pay them no mind.

“Just ignore them,” she says while she’s bustling around the lab. Thor likes to watch the way Jane lights up when he works and is a frequent visitor to her lab. “It’s a long process, learning to do it, but once you get it down, you’re golden.”

“How do you know how to pretend the media is non-existent?”

She looks amused. “I’m the girlfriend of an Avenger, Thor. Don’t think I don’t get my fair share of questions.”

Thor frowns. “Who was it that has spoken to you in an insolent and unbecoming manner?”

“Nope, not telling you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t wish you furious on my behalf on anybody except maybe your brother.”

Thor usually does not have to worry about the press asking him questions. Much of the time when he is out and about they follow him but hang back and do not ask questions. Darcy says it is because he is much larger than many Midgardians and causes them great concern for their wellbeing if they annoy him. Thor is not certain that this is true, because many Midgardian children come up to him and beam at him and tells him stories about times they saw thunderstorms or lightning.

(Thor greatly enjoys the company of children. They are very sweet. He should like a whole brood of them someday. He has not told Jane yet, as that may perhaps be a conversation for the future)

After Bucky’s revealing of his identity, however, the press seems to have become emboldened, as Thor discovers while making a morning beverage trip for Jane. She greatly enjoys the Starbucks place, and he has fetched her a large mint hot chocolate as well as a breakfast sandwich.

(Jane is prohibited from having coffee unless there is important lab work to be done, Darcy has informed him, for Jane is far too excitable on her own without coffee to assist her)

On his way back to the Tower, the journalists continue to hound him. He does his best to ignore them as Jane has advised, but one of them jostles him and he drops both Jane’s hot chocolate and her breakfast sandwich.

“How do you feel about the treatment of Bucky Barnes since the reveal of his identity?” The same journalist who upended his delivery and did not apologize for doing so asks.

Thor is aware that many members of the Midgardian press view him as unintelligent. They believe him to be only muscle. On the whole, Thor does not mind. Sometimes he even has fun with it, playing up his dumb side to humorously pretend he does not understand the subject which is being discussed. The topic of homosexual marriage, for example, was a great game for him to play at one press conference, when he held up the entire gathering for half an hour by forcing a reporter to explain the nature of the term “gay” and why it was frowned upon. Thor does not mind his public perception.

However today, he thinks, will be the day he breaks it.

He turns to the reporter. “I feel very poorly about it,” he says calmly. “I believe that Sergeant Barnes is being treated incorrectly when one takes his past into account.”

The journalist looks gleeful. “You believe that Barnes should be incarcerated, then?”

“Ah, you mistake me. I was referring to the treatment by the press.”

The journalists fall silent and Thor smiles pleasantly. “Does that answer your query?”

“Wouldn’t Barnes be treated as a traitor in Asgard?” Another reporter asks, and Thor wonders how _he_ is the one who has gained the reputation as an idiot. He turns on all of them and gives them his most commanding and fierce expression. He is satisfied to see they all shrink back.

“In Asgard, the fact that Sergeant Barnes was under mind control while he committed all those acts would be taken into account,” he answers grimly. “He would be healed of the wounds in his mind to the best of our abilities, and then we would have discussed the ordeal he had been through and whether or not he felt remorse for his actions. It would also have been taken under consideration; however, that Sergeant Barnes was not truly himself when he committed those acts.” He gives them the most quelling look he can manage. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must return to the Starbucks, as you have caused me to spill my delivery for my Jane, and I must retrieve a new beverage and sandwich for her. I would greatly appreciate it were you not to follow me.”

They don’t. Thor enjoys his walk to the Starbucks in peace.


	4. Clint

Clint doesn’t often take missions from old friends anymore. One can never really know if they’re _actually_ old friends, or if they’re plotting to kill someone they shouldn’t (him). But in this case, the target is someone the world would be better off without, so he packs up his bow and heads out.

He regrets it almost immediately.

The squad assigned to him seems okay. They’re not going to stab him in the back, anyway. But there’s something cruel about their smiles, something distinctly unkind about them. Clint has good instincts. They may not try to kill him, but they’re not kind fellows.

They’re in an old warehouse staking out their mark. Clint has climbed into the rafters while the squad eats tinned beans and talks below. He’s not really sure if they know he’s up there. He’s _definitely_ sure that he doesn’t care.

He’s trying not to pay attention to whatever they’re talking about but his ears perk up when he hears the word “Barnes”.

“Fuckin’ criminal,” one of them, Alvarez, says. “Can’t believe that guy’s walking free.”

“Should be locked up,” Dickens agrees.

“Or worse,” Malcolms says darkly.

“He’s a fucking menace to society.” Miles tosses his cigarette in the dirt and grinds it beneath his boot.

“Bet you he’s just lying in wait,” Malcolms mutters. “Got all the fucking Avengers conned. One of these days, mark my words, he’s gonna reveal himself out from the shadows and gut every last one of those suckers-“

Clint drops from the rafters and lands neatly on the ground. They all jump, hands going to their guns. Clint gives them a cheery wave. “Sorry, guys. Did I scare you?”

“No,” Dickens mutters. “Just warn a guy.”

Clint sits on an overturned bucket and grins at them all. “So,” he says brightly. “What are we talking about?”

Relief flashes across Alvarez’s face before he masks it. “Nothing in particular. Just shooting the shit.”

“I love shooting the shit.” Clint leans back a little. “You know who I shoot the shit with a lot?”

Malcolms’s smile is slightly condescending. “Who?”

“My man Bucky, back at the Tower.”

All of them still. Clint pretends not to notice.

“Man, Bucky is the _greatest_ to shoot shit with. We do it while playing MarioKart. He is a _champ_ at MarioKart, let me tell you. He stays on the Rainbow Road the _best_ out of everyone I’ve ever played with. Well, except maybe Natasha, but that woman is a whole class of her own.” Clint smiles fondly. “Where was I? Oh, yeah. Bucky. Bucky is the best. You know he’s got this whole repertoire of dirty jokes from the 40s I’d never even _heard_ before? It was insane. _And_ he uses this whole backlog he’s got of weird old-timey slang that he likes to use around me cause he knows I think it’s the bomb. My favorite is ‘Ducky Shincracker’. Means a good dancer. I dunno how the hell you got _that_ from good dancer, but hey, I’m not about to argue with a sometimes-Russian assassin. I mean, who would, right?” Clint laughs and after a few moments everyone else nervously chuckles.

Clint leans forwards on his bucket a little. “Here’s another thing,” he says, still grinning for a few seconds before he shuts all the faux humor and pleasantness out of his face. Everyone immediately sobers, looking a little scared. Malcolms looks, he notes a little viciously, like he's pissed himself. Good. “Bucky Barnes is a human being. He was mistreated to the point where none of your tiny, clearly unevolved brains can imagine. Hell, mine can’t, and I’m clearly smarter than all of you. So I advise that you all stop talking trash about him. Or I’ll hear about it. And I’ll get pissed.” Clint snaps the cheerfulness and brightness back onto his face. “Also I can easily kill you all and dispose of your bodies and no one will ever even know you existed. So, you know, might want to keep that in mind.”

Clint stands up and they all snap to their feet, pointing their guns at him. Clint just shoulders his bow and smiles pleasantly at them. “Good luck on your mission.” He walks out of the warehouse and to his hotel room. He packs the few belongings he’d brought with him and buys a ticket home from his phone.

On the way to the airport, he calls Natasha.

“Aren’t you supposed to be killing someone?” she answers.

“I almost killed several someones,” he answers, feeling his entire body relax at the sound of her voice. “That’s why I thought I’d pass on this one. They probably can handle it.”

“Do I have to kill anyone for slandering your honor?”

“It wasn’t my honor they slandered.”

There’s a pause where he knows Natasha hears what he’s not saying.

“You’re a good man, Clint Barton,” she finally says.

“Don’t let that get around. It’ll ruin my reputation.”

Natasha laughs and Clint grins, feeling at peace as he walks into the airport.


	5. Sam

The assholes approach him _right after a battle_.

It was a quiet one. Only he and Steve went out for this one, a mild HYDRA skirmish. But common sense should dictate that people shouldn’t approach superheroes after a fight to complain at them. These guys clearly have none.

“Mr. Wilson,” one of them says. Sam notices their shirts that says “The Imprison The Winter Soldier Movement” and sighs.

“Man, you’re so lucky you came up to me and not Steve. Steve is not in a good mood.”

He’s really not. Every time Steve encounters HYDRA he gets this pinched look on his face. He confessed to Sam once that it’s because he thought he’d ‘died’ in the Arctic for something, for the destruction of HYDRA, and every time he sees another cell he feels like he’s wasted things. It usually dissipates after he spends more time with the Avengers, but directly after a battle Steve Rogers is not a happy man. Sam sent him home early cause a cranky Captain America is good for approximately no one.

The person who seems to be in charge of the Movement clutching the leaflets presses on. “Mr. Wilson, you seem like a man of good judgment and character.”

“Yeah, well, if I keep talking to you for too long that appearance may go down.”

“We were hoping you would take these leaflets and drop them on the city while you’re flying, maybe even put them in the Avengers Tower urging the members of the Avengers to repent.”

Sam looks down at the flyer the guy is holding. There are parts in big bold type that say things like “AGENT OF SATAN” and “HARBINGER OF EVIL”.

“You think Bucky Barnes is going to bring about the end times?” he asks skeptically. “The guy can’t even beat Natasha at Wii Tennis. I’d be far more worried about her than Bucky.”

“Once we succeed in our mission to imprison the Winter Soldier, we intend to move onto the Russian interloper as well,” the guy says earnestly.

“Oh, great.”

“The Winter Soldier is deceiving you,” another member of the Crazy Train’s party tells him seriously. “He is going to kill you and all the other Avengers and then there will be no one to protect us. Fire and brimstone will rain from the sky and we will all suffer due to your being tricked by the one-armed man.”

Sam rubs his forehead. He just wants to go back home, take a shower, and maybe watch Animal Planet with Bucky. Dude likes watching kittens.

“So will you take the flyers?” The head guy asks. “Become an ally of good, instead of a minion for wickedness.”

 _Minion._ Wow. Sam considers it. “Yeah, sure,” he decides. “Hand ‘em over, I’ll take them all.”

Delighted, the guy hands them over. Sam holds up a finger. “Be right back.”

He pokes his head into a store. “Hey man, you got a lighter and a trash can I can borrow?”

The girl behind the counter immediately procures a lighter and a metal trash can. “Brooklyn supports Sergeant Barnes,” she says seriously. “Let me know if you need to introduce those guys to my fist to make your point clearer.”

Sam grins. He likes New York. “I’ll be sure to tell you.” He lights the leaflets on fire and drops them into the can in full view of the assholes. He waits until they burn out and then returns to the apoplectic assholes.

“You’re going to doom us all,” the main guy hisses. “And you will be sent to Hell for your wickedness.”

Sam shrugs. “If what you’re saying is true, all my friends will be there,” he answers brightly. “Sounds like a party to me.”

He opens up his wings and flies home.


	6. Natasha

Natasha hates drawing the short straw.

Whenever they wrap up a battle, they all draw straws (Tony has a special compartment for them in his suit) and whoever draws the shortest one has to go give a statement to whatever reporter is there.

Natasha maintains that she should not have to participate in the drawing on the grounds that she fucking hates this more than anyone and the day after people talk about how they were sure she’d kill whatever reporter asked her a question about how her hair stayed so perfect after a fight. Tony maintains that that’s why they do it, cause it’s fucking hilarious. They remain in a stalemate.

Today Natasha draws the shortest straw. She manages to deal with the reporter’s asinine questions until he says “Ms. Romanoff, what are your feelings on the Bucky Barnes debate that has been occurring over the past several months?”

Natasha has been waiting for this. She is ready.

“I slept with him,” she says calmly. The reporter nearly chokes.

“I’m sorry?”

“I slept with him. Natasha Romanoff has slept with James Buchanan Barnes.” She turns on her heel and rejoins the Avengers despite the reporter yelling follow-up questions after her.

Steve gives her a quizzical look. “What did you say back there?” he asks. Natasha shrugs.

“Just stuff,” she says airily. “Let’s go get food.”

After major battles, it’s become a tradition that they eat in some little out of the way place. Today they eat spaghetti and meatballs in a tiny Italian joint. Everyone freezes when they see Natasha’s response to the reporter on the small, boxy TV in the corner.

Tony laughs so hard he starts choking on a piece of meatball. Bruce thumps him on the back with a faint smile. Clint just gives Natasha a “really? _Really?_ ” look. Steve and Thor shake their heads. Sam disguises a laugh as a cough. Bucky just stares at her, puzzled.

“Why would you tell him that?” he asks her, entire body radiating confusion.

“Because for the next two weeks, you get a break from people questioning your loyalties.” Natasha sips her water. “They’ll be all either wondering the particulars of our relationship, especially in relation to my relationship with Clint, or calling me a slut for daring to have sex with more than one person. They’ll lay off you for a little bit.”

Bucky is gazing at her with undisguised fondness. “You didn’t have to do that, Natalia,” he says softly.

Natasha doesn’t really know how to handle people who aren’t Clint directing that level of emotion at her. She shrugs and steals one of Bucky’s meatballs. He must understand, because the only thing he says is “that was mine.”

“Tough luck.”

Tony clears his airways. “Never a dull fucking moment with you people,” he coughs out. “Never a dull fucking moment.”


	7. Bruce

Bruce is extremely fond of Bucky.

Bucky Barnes has never once displayed any fear of him, any apprehension. He has always treated Bruce like a person. Bruce trusts that Bucky would put him down if the Other Guy became a problem. He suspects Bucky feels the same way in reverse. There’s a quiet, mutual fondness between them that Bruce is glad to have.

That, coupled with the fact that people should be smarter than this, is why what happens happens.

The reporters mob Bruce while he’s walking home to the Tower from Teavana. He tries to ignore them, really, he does, but then they start stepping on his feet and they keep shouting in his face and then they make him spill his tea, scattering it all over the sidewalk, and he just can’t-

He Hulks out. The reporters scatter around him but don’t leave.

“PONYTAIL MAN IS HULK’S FRIEND,” Hulk roars loudly. “LEAVE HULK AND PONYTAIL MAN ALONE OR HULK WILL SQUISH YOUR PUNY BODIES.”

Hulk picks up all their cameras and smashes them between his fingers. Then he lopes off to where he knows best, which is the garage under the Avengers Tower. He can’t fit through the door to the Tower proper.

The Metal Man comes down to join him soon. He grins at him widely. “Hey, Big Guy,” he says brightly. “You’re trending on Twitter.”

Hulk grunts. “DON’T LIKE PEOPLE QUESTIONING PONYTAIL MAN,” he mutters. “PONYTAIL MAN IS GOOD MAN.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t think any reporters are going to follow any of us around for a long time.” Metal Man’s grin gets bigger. “That was pretty cool of you, Big Guy.”

“HMPH.”

“Long Haired Man.” Metal Man snorts. “I keep telling Barnes to cut his hair.”

The Hulk is abruptly tired. He pats the Metal Man on the back _very_ gently. Metal Man still stumbles. “TELL PONYTAIL MAN THAT HE SHOULD NOT WORRY ABOUT TINY HUMANS.”

“Will do.”

The Hulk quietly shifts back into Bruce. Bruce stumbles a little and then groans.

“Oh, God.”

Tony grins. “That was totally awesome,” he informs Bruce. “I’m getting all the pictures blown up the size of posters and framing them around the Tower.”

“I think the Other Guy smashed their cameras.”

“He smashed the _paparazzi’s_ cameras. Didn’t do anything about all the people on their phones posting to the Internet documenting the glorious moments they all collectively shat themselves.” Tony is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“You’re extremely difficult,” Bruce says wearily. “Can I have some pants?”

(Tony does blow the pictures up. Bucky seems extremely pleased and hangs one in his room, though, so Bruce supposes it isn’t _all_ bad)


	8. Bucky

The paparazzi and news organizations have lain off Bucky for the most part. These days it’s mostly reserved to Fox News, and according to Tony they’re not a real news station, so he supposes everything’s as even as it’s ever going to be.

He appreciates what the team has said about him, and every time he thinks about it his heart constricts a little. But he’s not entirely sure they’re right that he’s a good person. He’s killed a lot of people to be solidly in the good column.

Bucky’s standing in line at a bakery when he feels someone hesitantly tug on his sleeve. He looks down to see a little girl with bright red pigtails, no more than six or seven, gazing up at him with wide eyes.

“Hello?” he tries, confused.

The girl crooks her finger slightly and Bucky leans down.

“Are you Mr. Bucky Barnes?” she whispers. Bucky nods, feeling his stomach drop to his feet. She’s going to run away screaming. He doesn’t blame her.

The girl rolls up her sleeve to reveal a prosthetic arm. “We match,” she whispers. Bucky’s stomach shoots up from his feet to do somersaults in his throat.

“Alice!” A woman who must be the girl’s mother hurries forwards. “I am so sorry that she bothered you.”

Bucky smiles hesitantly at the woman. “She didn’t.” He kneels down so he’s face to face with the little girl. “Your name’s Alice?”

She nods, suddenly shy.

“Well, Alice, I think your arm is _much_ nicer than mine.”

Alice shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. Yours is shinier and it has plates that move cool when you move it. You’re a _hero_.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nah. I’m just a guy. But _you_?” He pretends to think about it for a moment. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’re a hero.”

She perks up. “Really?”

“Really really. What do you want to be your superhero name?”

She thinks about it. “I wanna be the Singing Superhero,” she says seriously. “Cause I like to sing and I wanna be a superhero.”

Bucky nods sagely. “Good choice.” He turns to the line in front of him, which has started watching him. “Can I get a Sharpie?”

Someone passes him a blue Sharpie and he turns to Alice. “Can I write on your arm?” he says, asking Alice but looking at her mom. Her mom nods right as Alice says “Yes!”

Bucky carefully writes “ _The Singing Superhero_ ” on her arm in his best handwriting. He caps the Sharpie and looks at Alice solemnly. “Now you can look at it whenever you forget,” he says. “And you’ll remember that you’re a superhero.”

Alice throws her arms around him. Bucky’s surprised. He’s not used to kids hugging him. Hesitantly he hugs her back.

She pulls away and shows her mother her arm.  “Mama, look!”

“I see it!” Her mother’s eyes are a little watery. “What do you say to Mr. Barnes?”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.”

“Alice, why don’t you go back to our table and finish your food, okay?”

Alice skips back to her table and Bucky stands up. To his surprise, the mother hugs him.

“You’re her favorite Avenger,” she whispers. She pulls away and Bucky pretends not to notice her wipe away tears. “Thank you.”

She walks back to Alice and their table before Bucky can say anything. Bucky gets his pastry and his coffee in a daze. As he leaves, he waves to Alice and her mom, who cheerfully wave back.

_Maybe I’m not a good person_ , he realizes as he walks down the street eating his Danish, the thought hitting him like a thunderbolt. _But I’m a decent person, and I’m on the road to good_.

The thought makes his heart swell. Bucky Barnes walks down the street sipping his coffee, a spring in his step.

“Decent” makes the Sun shine a little brighter, and that’s all he really needs right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it! Thank you so much to everyone who read! I appreciate it.


End file.
